An Ideal Pain
by GinnyRocker317
Summary: Hatred that turns to love, and the tragedy that made it possible.
1. Chapter 1

A curt nod, a stiff smile, or a sideways glance. That's all I get from Aaron Everard these days. It's hard to believe, to even imagine, that we had once been the best of friends. In third year, still care-free and innocent, we had been friends. Perhaps even a little more than friends, though neither of us would admit it. That is, until Jacob Davis became my partner for a Herbology project.

It was completely innocent, purely for the project that we had been spending hours together. Don't get me wrong, Jacob is a very nice boy, even now, three years later, but there was no other interest besides a good Herbology grade. At least, from my side there wasn't. I had tried to make Aaron understand that Jacob meant nothing to me. He wouldn't listen. It's trivial and stupid, now when I look back on it. It was just childish jealousy, but for some reason, we'd never been able to get past it. It only get's worse from there. He didn't talk to me for weeks, even after the Herbology had finished and I had lost all social contact with Jacob. Then, one day in mid-January, the last string was pulled and everything had come crashing down. I was still being given the silent treatment, and I had taken to hiding in empty classrooms to cry between classes. Because Aaron and I had been so close, I had foolishly not bothered to become close friends with anyone else, and when he started ignoring me, I had been left completely on my own. The particular classroom I had picked that day, however, was not empty. It was occupied, by - and some Ravenclaw fourth year. Lisa…Lizzy….Lily…something like that anyway. I stood there frozen, watching as his inexperienced lips kissed hers in a way that no thirteen-year olds should be doing. Then I let out a sob, turned and sprinted form the room. I heard her let out an annoyed huff as he shoved her away and ran after me, calling my name. But I was already long gone, a floor above, hiding behind a suit of armor, crying so hard it hurt. He was a pretty good looking guy, and it was not completely shocking that he had managed to nab a fourth-year. But still, I was young, and naïve, and I had this idea that for some reason he would choose me over prettier, older girls. In my romantic, over-dramatic, overly-hormonal thirteen year old head, he had crossed a line. He had pulled the last string, made it all fall apart, and there was no way it could ever be fixed again.

He tried for weeks after that to talk to me. He would run up to me in-between classes, grab my shoulder, and try to hold my attention long enough to apologize. With no luck of course, I wouldn't have it. Finally, during the third week of his attempts, I got fed-up, and as he once again tried to apologize in the Gryffindor common room, I spun around and yelled at him to bugger off. I told him that I never wanted to speak to him again. Then I walked away, stomped up the stairs to the girl's dormitory, and did not speak to him, or have him speak to me, for the rest of that year.

Now, three years later, I'm sitting on the Hogwarts express on my way back to the castle I consider my favored home after summer break. Jacob Davis comes into my compartment and pecks me on the cheek.

"How was your break, baby?"

I mentally wince at the word 'baby' but let it slide, as I often do with Jacob. I can't believe he still hasn't noticed that I hate it when he calls me that, after we'd been together since the middle of last year. Nevertheless, I lean my head against his shoulder and sigh.

"Pretty good. Yours?"

He shrugs, a bit pathetically I think. "Alright, a bit lonely. I missed you so much" he says lovingly as he gives me another peck on my cheek. At that moment, Aaron, with his ever-present best friends, Michael Neil and Adnin Patel walk by our compartment. He glances indifferently at Jacob and me, his flat blue eyes betraying nothing of what he's thinking. Just as Jacob's lips start to move down my neck, I remembered that I had to go to the Prefect's meeting. I felt guilty, but also the slightest bit relieved at having an excuse to get away from Jacob and his lips. The prefect's meeting was, of course, not optional, so I made my way to the designated compartment, leaving a complaining Jacob behind. Upon entering, I noticed Aaron sitting near the back. He said almost nothing the entire meeting. To my dismay, I was paired with him for patrols, three nights a week. He made no comment about this either, even though I'm sure he and the entire compartment heard me curse "under my breath".

As I left the Prefects' compartment after the meeting, I found Stacey Edwards, one of my best friends, heading back to our compartment from the washroom.

"Irene!" She squealed and hugged me. It's nice to finally be back among people who hug you because they want to, not because they feel obligated to.

We were halfway back to our compartment, where Jacob and Penelope Thomas (our other best friend) are waiting, however, when three Slytherins appeared out of a compartment to the right and blocked our path. My father is the Head of the Auror office and is the reason many of the Slytherins' Death Eater parents are locked up in Azkaban. Stacey's a muggle-born, making us both prime victims of the Slytherins' never ending harassment.

"Hello Mudblood, and Blood traitor," said Jonathon Bennet, an evil smirk gracing his otherwise handsome features.

"Where are you guys off to?" Phoebe Parkinson asked as she drew her wand and began to twirl it between her fingers, an evil gleam in her eye.

"Why don't you leave us alone, you Slytherin slime bags?" An annoyed Stacey snapped as she attempted to push past them.

All three Slytherins looked furious, and they were about to fire jinxes when there was a voice behind me.

"No fighting, move along, the Head Boy is coming," said a masculine voice that I knew all too well, despite having hardly heard it for the past three years. It was, of course, Aaron. And it was true; the Head Boy could be seen in the distance walking towards them. With scowls and some threatening looks, the Slytherins disappeared back into their compartment.

"Thanks" breathed Stacey, looking genuinely relieved. He nodded to her, although he was staring intently at me. I could feel myself blushing, so I gave him a quick nod, and almost ran back to my compartment. _Stupid, stupid, stupid. I should have been able to handle that situation. I'm a prefect too! _Stacey caught up to me and broke my train of thought. "Do you think, this year, you two may become friends again?" She asked.

"Not a chance," I answered her, and at last entered our compartment.

**AN:**

I realize the first few chapters are slow and not very exciting, but bear with me, it does get much better!


	2. Chapter 2

The next morning, I sat at the Gryffindor table with Penelope, eating my cereal, while the new time tables were being handed out. To most people, Penelope is a shy, quiet girl, with a talent of blending in with the background. She has long red hair that she always keeps in one braid down her back. She has a few freckles on her slightly upturned nose and is pretty tall. Being the extremely simple and queit girl that she is, she's never gotten much attention from the male population, not that she's ever expressed any bitterness towards this fact. I envy Penelope's freckled nose that she hates so much, since mine is big and pointed. I have grey eyes and skin so pale I look like I'm permanently sick; I keep my light brown hair layered, a tad below my shoulders. I've never considered myself _pretty_, certainly there's nothing special about my appearance, but I guess Jacob must have seen something he liked. As I'm finishing my cereal, Staey walks into the Great Hall and plops down beside me, grumbling to herself; she's not a morning person. Stacey is easily the perttiest of the three of us, and is also probably one of the prettiest girls in the school. She has strawberry-blond hair, shimmering blue eyes, and a perfect body. A lot of boys ask Stacey out, but she only accepts about a quarter of the offers she gets. Needless to say, she's gone out with some of the best looking blodes at Hogwarts. Angus Wood, was in seventh yesr, Quidditch Captain, and one of the best-looking boys to ever walk these old halls when he asked out little fourth year Stacey. She dumped him after two weeks, as she does with most of the boys she dates. She insist that she hasn't met anyone interesting enough to hold her attention for long than that.

After breakfast, the three of us head up to our first class of the day: Potions. The Potions Master, Professor Aisworth, was a no-nonsense man, with eyes and hair the colour of a raven's feathers. His towering height only increased the intimidating aura he had about him. I sat taking notes as he explained the effects of the Draught of Living Death, when suddenly I felt someone's eyes on me. I looked up to see Aaron staring at me. His flat blue eyes once again betraying nothing, but his dark eyebrows were drawn together and his perfectly sculpted forehead was creased, like he was concentrating hard on something. Any _normal_ person caught staring would blush furiously and turn away. But no, not him. He keeps staring at me, and I meet his gaze, not wanting to be the first to look down. Time seemed to stop as we were locked in our "staring contest", and Professor Ainsworth's voice became a dull buzzing in the background. After a few moments that felt more like several days, he shook his head, not to me, but to himself, and turned away.

I frowned. He is so infuriating! Why was he not paying attention to Ainsworth's lecture? It's as if he thinks such things are beneath him. And what with that shake of his head? It seemed to imply that he knows something I don't. With a roll of my eyes and a scowl, I return my attention to the notes I'm suppose to be taking. As I look back down, I notice Stacey staring back and forth between Aaron and I. She's noticed our little exchange, and I bet she could easily read most of the emotions as they flicked across my face. With a tiny, contemplating frown, she too returns to her notes. Penelope and the res of the of class are too busy furiously writing down everything that escapes Ainsworth's mouth to have noticed anything.

I'm sitting in the common room that evening, in-between Stacey and Penelope on our favorite couch in front of the fireplace. My head is rested on the back of the couch and I start to doze as I listen to the calming voices of my friends discussing the Transfiguration essay we were assigned today.

I open my eyes quickly when I hear they've abruptly stopped talking and I feel a shadow fall over me. I look up and it's Aaron, towering above me.

"Patrols, Boscawen" He says in an uninterested voice. I check my watch. Bullocks, he's right, it's 8 pm. I resist scowling at him for using my surname, for making me get up from my comfortable position, and for just plain speaking to me in the first place. Not wanting to shirk my duties on the first day, I reluctantly lift myself out of the comfortable armchair.

"Right. Let's go, Everard" I say, retaliating (albeit meekly) with the use of his last name. It's the best I can think of at the moment. As I'm leaving, I see Stacey give me a playful wink, and Penelope smile sympathetically. I follow him across the common room and out the portrait hole.

Twenty minutes later, we've finished two floors and are heading up to the next one. Neither of us has said one word to the other, and we're walking on opposite sides of the hallway, so as to be as far away as possible from each other. You could cut the tension between us with a knife. I watch him out of the corner of my eye. He's got his hands stuffed in his pockets, and he strides in that 'who gives a rat's arse' manner. Personally, I'd rather be doing a million other thins than this, including patrolling alone, or being chased by a fully grown Blast-Ended-Screwt.

We're on the staircase heading to the forth floor when suddenly there's a rumbling noise. It feels as if the world is shifting. The staircase is moving.

"Are you kidding me?" I groan in frustration.

"Are you talking to me or the staircase? Because I'm afraid the staircase isn't going to respond" Aaron says with a smirk on his face.

"Oh, ha ha, aren't you just hilarious," my voice is dripping with sarcasm- it's one of my few talents. "You're not funny, you know." Fortunately, we emerge from the staircase still on the fourth floor, just at the opposite end. We continue the patrol from this side.

"I wasn't trying to be" he responds, the smirk still plastered on his face.

"Good, because you're not" I snap.

"What is _wrong_ with you? I'm just joking around, no need to get your knickers in a twist" he's frowning now, the smirk definitely gone.

"_Joking around?_" I hiss. "I don't know whether you've noticed or not, but we aren't exactly on joking terms, Everard".

He stays silent, still frowning, and looking at the floor, so I continue, letting gout some of the things I've held in for so long.

"We've been on the same Quidditch team for _three years_, and I could probably count the words we've exchanged on one of my hands" I'm almost shouting at this point.

Finally he speaks up; he's looking at me and is still frowning. "I don't know how easy that's going to be now that I'm Gryffindor's captain".

I hadn't known that. My head spins for a moment. _Captain? Him? Why?_ Simon Jones and Pierre Smith are just as good as he is. Now I've gotten even angrier, if that's possible. "Oh Great! Another thing to inflate your already giant ego! Well maybe I just won't join this year!" I shout.

"FINE!" He yells. "Don't join! We'll be better off without you! Why don't you go join the Ravenclaw team? Your pathetic excuse for a boyfriend may let you on even though you fly like a muggle!"

"Don't you dare bring Jacob into this! You're just jealous that I've found someone who loves me and whom I love! While you, you're going to die alone because no one would _ever_ would want to be with an arrogant, conceited, inconsiderate jerk like you!" I'm panting now. All the tension that's been building up for the past three years between us is finally bursting out. In the silence that followed, I readied myself for his round of shouting.

But it never came.

Before I know what's happening, he's taken two long strides and is standing right in front of me. I can feel the wall against my back. He's too close. I can't breathe; his scent is making me dizzy. I look up and he's bent his head. Our faces are so close I can spell the mint tooth paste and pumpkin juice scent emitting from his slightly open mouth.

"Davis does not love you. I doubt that prat even knows what love _is_." He whispers. I'm paralyzed; all I can do is listen to him as his eyes bore into mine. He moves his face lower still, so that his lips are almost touching my ear. His breath on the side of my face sends violent shivers down my spine, and I can feel the hairs at the back of my neck stand up. "And let's be completely frank Irene," he uses my first name for the first time since third year, "you _certainly do not_ love him."

He stepped back, still meeting my gaze, looking thoroughly satisfied with himself. As soon as I could no longer smell his scent- cologne, freshly mowed grass, broomstick wood, and parchment- I snapped out of my reverie. "You've no business insulting what Jacob and I have." My voice was now at a deadly whisper, and he seemed more intimidated than when I was yelling. "The biggest mistake I ever made was befriending you and I'm glad I've hated you since third year," and with that I reeled my hand back and slapped him across the face as hard as I could. I could see the tears well in his eyes from the pain, and my hand was stinging. On his right cheek, I've left a red, angry hand print/ His mouth is open in shock, and all he does is stare at me, his eyes wide. Then, I turn on me heel and leave him there stunned, as I make my way back to Gryffindor tower, alone.

- POV

I watched her walk away in silence, my cheek burning with pain. If only she knew… I feel like vomiting and crying at the same time. Gross, what a mess that would make. "_The biggest mistake I ever made was befriending you." _If only she knew, the emotional pain is a hundred times worse than the physical.


	3. Chapter 3

Aaron and I avoided eachother like the plague for the rest of the week.

"That's horrible! Who does he think he is?" Penelope exclaimed, after I'd finished telling her and Stacey the story two nights later.

"Exactly!" I responded, glad that at least one of my friends has agreed with my perspective of things.

Stacey, however, had an entirely different point of view. "I dunno" she says, a sly smile playing on her perfectly formed lips, "it sounds like a lovers' quarrel to me".

"Lo-lo-lovers' quarrel?" I spluttered, outraged. How can she say that?

"You do know that Irene has a boyfriend, right? Jacob Davis? Remember him?" asked Penelope sarcastically.

Penelope just shrugged, but I could've sworn I saw her smile become even wider. I sat back and remembered the day after my fight with Aaron . I was walking by the place where he sat at breakfast at the same time that Patil had been going over to sit with him. I heard Adnin gasp in surprise.

"WHAT THE _HELL_ HAPPENED TO YOU?" he exclaimed. Indeed, Aaron had gotten pretty much the same reaction from everyone who saw him that day. The handprint I'd left on his face the night before had not faded. In fact it looked worse; although the crimson it had been the night before had faded to a light pink, I could now see that I'd inadvertently scratched him with my nails in a few places. I admit I was feeling slightly guilty…not guilty enough to apologize, nor speak or look at him though. All the professors pretended they don't see tha angry red mark, and had continued on with lessons normally. Except of course, for Professor Trillium; being Head of Gryffindor, he felt it was his duty of find and punish Aaron's attacker. Rumor has it that the outrage on his face after Aaron had refused to give him the name of the offender was one to match even McGonogall's angriest face. Trillium gave him detention for "not cooperating with a professor", or so that's what I've heard.

When I mentioned this to Penelope and Stacey, none of us could come up with a reason why Aaron wouldn't rat me out to Trillium. He could have gotten my prefect's status taken away, at the very least. I cannot imagine what he would enjoy more than me being so brutally humiliated, except, perhaps my death.

I was still pondering this the next day in Defense Against the Dark Arts. It was becoming into something of an obsession. Why hadn't he told on me?

"Irene?"

"Miss Boscawen?"

"Boscawen!"

Professor Aldridge's angry voice startled me from my thoughts. The entire class is staring at me.

"Would you please pay attention? Unless you think your thoughts have strayed somewhere more important than this lesson?" said the Professor's stern voice.

"No professor" My voice was barely above a whisper, and I could feel my face turning beet red.

"Then could you please tell me the words, in the correct pronunciation, for the spell used to clear a blocked airway"

"_Anapneo_ " I respond, my voice still barely more than a sqeak. Most people had stopped staring by now, but through my peripheral vision, I could see that Aaron was still watching me. I did not meet his gaze this time. Professor Aldridge continued with the lesson, and after a few moments Aaron turned away.

I was beyond relieved when the bell rang, and I had packed my stuff and was out the door before most of the class had woken up enough to realize it was dinner time. Ahead of everyone, I was halfway down to the Great Hall when Stacey and Penelope caught up to me, panting.

"Why are you walking so fast?" panted Stacey.

"Never mind that. What happened in there? Aldridge had to call your name three times!" Penelope inquired.

"I'm just a bit tired is all" I mumbled, not meeting their eyes. For once, they just let it go, and we sat down for dinner. At least I don't have to patrol with - tonight. Maybe if I finish the Transfiguration essay early, I can get some rest and snap back into reality.

As I was walking down to the common room the next morning, I noticed a small crown gathering around the news board. I pushed past a bunch of second-years and read a note in what I assumed was Aaron's handwriting.

_Gryffindor Quidditch Team Tryouts_

_Sunday, September 5__th__, 8 am. _

_Bring your own broom if you've got one_

_Members of last year's team must re-try out with everyone else_

_Aaron Everard,_ _team captain. _

I sighed, I was really going to miss playing on the team.

"Are you goint to try out again?" asked Penelope as she caught up to me walking down the stairs to the Great Hall.

"Of course not" I answer in a bitter voice.

She stayed silent for you few moments. And then, "You shouldn't give up something you love just because of stupid Everard" she finally said.

Sigh. How well that girl could read my mind.

"Don't be ridiculous Penelope. I told you what he said: 'We'll be better off without you. You fly like a muggle.' There's no way he'll let me on the team, even if I do try out. Besides, I never want to speak to him again, that's going to be pretty difficult if I'm playing on _his_ team."

"Playing on whose team?" Asked the newly arrived Jacob as he sat down beside me and slung his arm over my shoulders. The first few days back have been so hectic that I've barely been able to spend any time with him.

"Nobody's. It's nothing." I mumble, not wanting to discuss it any further.

Penelope however, did. She responded for me, obviously hoping Jacob would take her side on the matter. "Irene doesn't want to join the Quidditch team this year because Aaron Everard is captain." She conveniently left out what Aaron had said on the matter. I hadn't told Jacob yet about the fight with Aaron.

"That's stupid, Irene. You shouldn't let that wanker keep you form playing Quidditch." Jacob said, pretty much repeating what Penelope had adviced.

"Everard is not going to let me onto his team. He hates my existence with the same passion that I hate his." I pointed out, getting frustrated.

"Although this may be true" says Stacey, sitting down beside Penelope, "I think he has no choice but to let you on". How did she even know what we're discussing?

"What do you mean?" I ask, bored and irritated.

"I think his love for Quidditch runs deeper than his hatred for you. You're an amazing Chaser. He needs you on the team to win the cup." She responded smartly.

"He can easily find someone as good as me" I scoff.

"I don't think so" says Jacob, catching on. "And if you fly better than the rest of the tryout he can't turn you down. The other team members won't stand for it. They want to win; they don't care if you two have got issues."

"Besides, imagine how much it'll annoy Everard if he's forced to put you on the team!" exclaimed Penelope, a rare gleam in her eyes.

This caught my attention the most. Yes, it would annoy him. A lot. And I really do want to play on the team. I remember last year, Quidditch was one of the only reasons I made it through the year. With OWL's approaching, and with no support from mum and dad, as usual, I was on the verge of having a nervous breakdown almost all the time.

I sigh. "Fine, I'll try out".


	4. Chapter 4

The morning of the Quidditch tryouts was a very sunny one, probably one of the last. When Aaron saw me standing on the field with all the other hopefuls, I could swear he actually did a double take. From my peripheral vision, I could see him arch an eyebrow, staring at me. I avoided his gaze and he was snapped out of it when Patil clapped a hand onto his shoulder.

"Better get to it mate" Adnin said "I've got a date later, I don't have all day." He winked. Having light brown hair, chocolate coloured skin, beautiful hazel eyes, and a Quidditch built body made Patil one of the female population's prime obsessions. I rolled my eyes.

When it finally came time for the Chasers to tryout, not only was I worried about making the team, I was starting to doubt that trying out was such a good idea. However, I went ahead and did so, flying pretty well, although there were a few others who did just as well, if not better.

I sat at the edge of the field to watch the rest of the tryouts; only the beaters were left. Letting my mind stray from what was going on on the field, I contemplated the idea of not making the team. Wouldn't that be humiliating, I show up, try out, and then don't make it. I seethed just thinking about how satisfying it would be for Aaron to watch me walk away, rejected from the team I've played on for three years.

Over in the stands, I could see Jacob, Penelope and Stacey sitting, and a little way away, Michael Neil. Michael possessed none of the Quidditch talent his best friends have. He was very plain looking; sandy blond hair and pale skin. However, what he lacks in looks, he most definitely makes up in extravagance. He was known for never shutting up, and was always the one to crack jokes or aggravate the teachers in class.

At last the tryouts were over and Aaron went to the front of the crowd to announce the new team members.

Pierre Smith as Seeker. I was pleased by this, since the now third year had been our seeker last year too, and had done exceptionally well. Adnin was keeper, of course. Timmy Summit and Simon Jones were beaters. Finally, himself, Sheryl Cosgrow and me as chasers. So I made the team. I just wasn't sure whether that was a good or bad thing.

Sitting in front of a roaring fire in the Gryffindor common room, late that same night, I was still thinking about being on the Quidditch team, and having to put up with Aaron. It's almost midnight and the common room is completely empty, except for me. I looked over when I heard the portrait hole open. It was Jacob. After congratulating me on making the team, he'd disappeared for the rest of the day.

You're not supposed to be in here" I whisper, smiling as he shrugged off his back pack, sat down and wrapped an arm around me waist.

"Are you going to give me detention?" He teased as he planted a kiss on my lips. I didn't get to respond however, because he deepened the kiss, using the hand on my waist to pull me on to his lap. His other hand went straight to my hair, as I granted him entrance into my mouth. Panting hard, we came up for air a few moments later, but Jacob did not stop. He began kissing down my neck, and to the exposed skin on my chest from the two buttons that were undone. Meanwhile, his hands were roaming everywhere: down my sides, on my stomach, and my thighs. I stretched my neck backwards, allowing him better access. Neither of us heard the portrait hole open and close.

"Oi! You two! Get a room, that's disgusting!" Jacob and I looked up abruptly. It was, of course Aaron. Sometimes I wonder why the universe hates me so much. "You're not even supposed to be in here Davis" Aaron continued.

Blushing furiously, Jacob mutter a quick goodbye in my direction, pecks me on the cheek, and heads for the portrait hole quickly. He gives Aaron a death glare all the while but doesn't say anything. Aaron doesn't even glance at him. I remain seated, glaring into the fire. Then Aaron comes and sits on the other side of the couch. _The nerve of him! _Not only does he kick my boyfriend out of the room, he doesn't even have the decency to leave me alone afterwards.

"Where the hell have you been all night? It's way past curfew." I say icily, still staring into the fire.

"I don't believe that's any of your business, Boscawen," he replies, a slight hint of humor evident in his voice. This makes me even angrier, but I remain silent. We stay like that for a while.

"Why didn't you tell Professor Trillium that I was the one who hit you?" I blurted out. It's been at the back of my mind for weeks, even though the handprint on his cheek was nothing but a few faint scratches now.

He turned to look at me, his eyes intense. He bowed his head forwards slightly, and when he spoke, it was barely above a whisper. "Why do you think I didn't tell?" He asked.

I shrugged, trying to seem nonchalant. "You didn't want to seem like a meek wimp?" I suggested. Even to my own ears, it sounded pathetic.

He looked disgusted. "No, that's not why" he spat. "And it's sad that that is how you think of me."

"You've never done anything to lead me to believe that you're anything but a conceited prick, so of course that's how I think of you!" I exclaimed.

H shook his head again, the same way he had a few days ago. "Don't shake your head at me like that! I'm not an idiot!" I yelled.

"I didn't say you were an idiot. And I'm the conceited one? Tell me, why is it you think you're better than me? Just because your grades are higher? Or your family is loaded? Or is it because you're a pure blood?" His voice was calm, but he seemed to realize that he'd gone too far. He looked instantly regretful.

A long silence stretched on in which neither of us looked away from the other

"I didn't mean that." He finally said in a low voice.

I sat there for a moment, trying to rein control of my emotions. When I met his gaze, I was still trying to hide the hurt, anger and hatred on my face. "Perhaps you should think twice before you say or do something. This definitely isn't the first time you've acted like an insensitive arse on impulse."

Aaron's POV

She once again cut into me as if she was using a dagger and not words. She turned and walked away, up the staircase to the girls' dormitory, and I had a sudden vision of a very similar scene that happened three years ago. _Why am I such a complete arse?_ I wondered as I watched her walk away from me for the second time that month.

**Author's Note**

Hope you're enjoying the fic! I know it's not the best, but it's something I started years ago and I really need to get it out of my system. Reviews are GREATLY appreciated...please...pretty please. With a cherry on top. :)


	5. Chapter 5

A week passed. Then another. I didn't speak to Aaron at all. In fact, I barely saw anything of him. Patrols were done in utter silence, and we always made a point of sitting on opposite ends of our classes together and of the common room,

Another person I wasn't seeing much of lately is Jacob. However, this fact does not make me so happy. It seems as though all I see of him lately is when he sneaks into the common room in the evenings for a snogging session. Speaking of those, he's been going further and further with me each time, and I'm not sure I'm really comfortable with it. Last time, two nights ago, he was trying to unbutton my shirt when I stopped him. He stormed out of the common room, angry, and apologized the next morning, saying he wouldn't try to push me that far again. I forgave him, somewhat reluctantly, but I haven't seen him since.

As Stacey, Penelope and I make our way to Hogsmeade in mid October for the first trip of the term, we're discussing - what else- boys. Stacey is on her fourth boyfriend already, Arnold Churkumba, a seventh year in Hufflepuff, and she's meeting him later today at the Three Broomsticks. Penelope, as usual, claims to be interested in no one. As we start talking about Jacob, both girls agree that they've barely seen him lately, and that he's been acting kind of odd.

"Are you meeting him today?" Penelope asked.

"No. He has a Herbology essay he needs to finish. He's spending all day in the library." I responded. A small voice in the back of my head tells me that there's something wrong, that spending all day in the library is not like Jacob. However, I choose to ignore that little voice, as I often do.

"What do you think is going on with him?" Stacey wonders aloud.

"I don't know," I say. I could hear a hint of sadness in my own voice.

"You should talk to him," Penelope, always the one with the wise advice.

"I will, tonight," I decide, resolved to figure out why he's acting so strangely.

Jacob is nowhere to be found in the library. He's not waiting for me in the Gryffindor common room, and he's not in the almost empty Great Hall.

"Check the Ravenclaw common room," suggests Stacey.

So I climb the winding stairs, they seem never ending. There's a sick feeling in my stomach, though I don't know why and the little voice in the back of my head seems to have increased its volume ten fold.

The portrait is of a proud-looking knight atop a wild black stallion. It was an odd portrait, and somewhat sad; the stallion did not look like it belonged there.

The knight begins speaking "I am the beginning of the end, and the end of time and space. I am essential to creation, and I surround every place. What am I?"

Bullocks. I forgot I had to answer a riddle to get into the common room. This is only the second time I've been here, and the first time I was with Jacob. Surprisingly, the answer to the riddle comes to me after only a few moments of painful thought.

"The letter 'e'" I respond. The portrait swings open without another word. I step inside and look around. The common room is full. In a secluded corner, Jacob sits on a couch. Hestia Jones, one of the sixth year Ravenclaw prefects, sits with him. Her legs are draped over his lap, and her hand is resting on the couch, right by is shoulder. One of his hands lies in her lap; the other is casually thrown around her shoulders. They're talking, quietly. Hestia giggles. I've never noticed how annoying and high pitched her laugh is.

Jacob's eyes lazily wander the common room. He freezes when he sees me, standing just in front of the portrait hole. Hestia sees his expression of horror, and also turns her gaze towards me. Jacob shoves her legs off him and stands up abruptly.

"Irene?" He exclaims.

I stand frozen, rooted to the spot. It's not like they'd been snogging or something. But somehow this is so much worse. They looked happy. I look over to Hestia. She's arranged her face into that of a guilty, ashamed expression, but it looks fake. She seems happy. She's won and she knows it.

I clear my throat, holding back angry tears. "How long have you been cheating on me?" I ask in a low voice. I really hope no one else has noticed what's transpiring between the three of us.

"Irene, I- This isn't- I didn't-," Jacob stammers. He looks desperate.

However, Hestia mercifully saves me from the excuse I'm positive Jacob was about to spew my way. "Since the start of term" She says. I can almost hear the triumph in her voice.

By now, most of the common room has stopped to watch and listen in.

"I'm so sorry" She says. I can hear the smile in her tone, even if it's not on her face.

'No you're not' I feel like saying. But I don't. I take one last glance at Jacob turn around and leave through the portrait hole. He doesn't call me back, or try to stop me. I walk briskly back to the common room. My heart is pounding, but my head is unusually clear. My eyes start to tear up.

"Shite" I mutter, as I wipe at my face with the back of my hand. I give the Fat Lady the password. Surprisingly, she asks no questions, which I'm grateful for, just gives me a sympathetic look. By now the tears are running reely down my face.

Penelope is sitting in the armchair closes to the door, reading a book. She looks up when I enter, and her face immediately registers alarm. But I don't meet her eyes. My target is set at the girls' dormitory, and I don't want to stop to talk to anyone. I continue my brisk pace.

"Irene!" Penelope calls. Everyone within earshot looks up at me, including Aaron. He stares at me as I walk by, but once again, I could not identify the emotion in his eyes or on his face.

I'm going to have to answer a lot of questions tomorrow, but for now, I just want to be alone.

"Irene!" Penelope calls again. I'm at the foot of the stairs by now. I reluctantly look back at her and giver a tiny shake of my head. She looks hurt, but she seems to understand that I want to be alone. I continue up the stairs, enter our dormitory, and go straight for my bed. I sit there for an hour or so, bawling like a child. _This is my own fault_, I think. How could I have let myself trust Jacob? It seems I've no luck whatsoever when it comes to boys. I sigh. How humiliating. I actually believed Jacob loved me, that we had something special. The tears continue to flow, until my eyes begin to burn and I can keep them open no longer. I finally get up to brush my teeth and change into my night wear. As I crawl into bed, the betrayal and loneliness washes over me in great waves. Finally after another half hour of crying, bliss arrives in the form of sleep, and I drift off to forget my stupid reality for a little while.

**Author's Note**

Hiya everyone! Hope you enjoyed this chapter. Just to let you know, much of this story is already finished, so it's only a matter of typing it up and writing the conclusion. Updates should be relatively quick! Leave a review please! :)


	6. Chapter 6

When I enter the Great Hall the next morning, it's practically empty. A few groups of students her and there, eating breakfast were present. The only other people at the Gryffindor table were three fourth-years I didn't know the names of. They started openly at me, but didn't say anything. They must have seen my little episode last night. I spread butter onto my toast and pour myself a glass of pumpkin juice. As I'm setting down the pitcher, Penelope and Stacey sit down across from me.

"Morning" I say.

"Good morning" Penelope replies, in a somewhat tentative voice.

"Cut to the chase. What happened last night?" Stacey demands.

"Good morning to you too" I reply sarcastically.

"Don't bullshit me Irene. Penelope told me you were crying." She says in a business like tone.

I glare t Penelope for a moment. She has the decency to keep her eyes on her plate.

"Where were you last night anyways?" I counter, still avoiding the question.

"If you must know, I was spending time with Arnold" she says, while turning slightly pink.

"Aah," I say, "And by spending time with, you mean snogging senseless" I smirk knowingly.

"Oh shut up. What happened? Out with it"

I think for a moment. I could keep avoiding the question, drag this interrogation out as long as possible. But suddenly I feel so emotionally exhausted that I decide to just tell my friends what happened and get it over with.

"Jacob cheated on me".

Silence.

"WHAT?" Stacey practically yells. A few heads turn out way.

"When?" Penelope adds.

"With who?"

I sigh. "Hestia Jones, it's been going on since the beginning of term. I found them draped across each other in the Ravenclaw common room yesterday".

"I'll kill them both. What a bitch. And him, he's an ungrateful piece of shite" Stacey fumes.

"Are you ok?" Penelope asks.

"I'm fine. Can we please stop talking about this? He's not even worth it. I just want to forget about it and move on." I plead.

"Sure hun. You're right; neither of them is worth it. Everyone knows Hestia's one of the biggest sluts in the castle." Stacey replies.

I look up then, and because I have the greatest luck in the world, Jacob and Hestia walk into the Hall at the exact moment. They're holding hands. Jacob's eyes meet mine for a split second before he hastily looks away. I feel my eyes begin to tear up; this is so humiliating. I look down to my plate and try to regain control. Mercifully, Stacey and Penelope both pretend nothing's happening. When I look up again, my friends are staring at their plates determinedly, while almost everyone else in the Hall is staring at me or at Jacob and Hestia. Nosy gits.

By lunch time, the rumor had reached pretty much the entire student body; from the Gryffindor tower to the darkest slimiest corner of the Slytherin dungeons. Everyone knows. All day, I receive sympathetic looks form friends, acquaintances or just random people who feel sorry for me. I also get some dirty looks from Hestia's friends. I wish I could hide out in my room for the entire week; maybe by then the school population will have some new rumor and poor sap to gossip about.

I swear the clock in the Defense against the Dark Arts room is slower than normal. It's been 5 minutes until the end of class for the past half hour. I put my head down on my desk and utter a string of profanities under my breath. Finally, the bell rings, and I head off to my dormitory.

I consider asking Aaron to patrol alone tonight. I could make up some lame excuse like being ill or something. The problem with that plan, however, is that I would actually have to talk to him, which I'd rather not do. So at 8 pm I drag myself down the stairs and meet Aaron in the common room. We patrol in silence for the first ten or so minutes. Then the prat had to ruin our unwritten silence agreement by uttering one of the stupidest, most insensitive comments I've ever been on the receiving end of.

"I told you he didn't love you" he says quietly. He's walking in the middle of the hallway, and I'm practically walking on the wall trying to be as far away from him as possible. I stop walking and stare indignantly at him. "Sorry, that was a stupid thing to say," he adds.

I roll my eyes, I'm truly not in the mood nor do I have the energy to argue with him. I let out a long annoyed sigh.

He says nothing for a few minutes, and stretch of uncomfortable silence goes by. Well, more uncomfortable than usual.

"Are you…erm…ok?" He asks awkwardly.

"Fan-bloody-tastic, thanks" my tone oozes sarcasm, but I can't help myself. Besides, it's not like I have an obligation to be nice to Everard.

"I'm just trying to be nice" he snaps.

I scoff "well don't".

"Urghhh, you're impossible!"

"Yeah, well so are you!" I snap back.

"Ok, let's just split up and patrol, you're driving me crazy!"

"Fine! I'll meet you back here in twenty minutes."

Finally! Alone for the first time all bloody day. I patrol in silence, enjoying the solitude. I go up to the Astronomy tower and look out. It's a cloudy night, and neither the stars nor the moon are visible. I inhale deeply the chilly breeze, letting it wash over me. Feeling refreshed I stroll back to the meeting spot. Aaron isn't there yet. I sit down with my back against the wall and wait.

A few minutes go by, and still he doesn't show. By now my mind has started thinking about Jacob. For the first time since last night, I recall the memories he and I shared. I wish I didn't care, I wish Jacob mean nothing to me. The tears stream steadily down my face and the solitude I longed for now feels like a crushing loneliness. By now it's been more than ten minutes, and I assume that Aaron, the git that he is, just went back up to the tower, not bothering to meet back up with me. I mull over the thought of getting up, going to my warm soft bed. But my legs feel like lead, and my brain hurts, and the mere thought of getting up exhausts me.

Suddenly I hear footsteps. Warily I look in the direction the sound is coming from and grab my wand tightly inside my robe pocket. The person gets closer until finally, Aaron stops right in front of me. Honestly I think I'd rather deal with a Slytherin bully than him right now. He notices my wet face and red eyes.

"Get lost" I mutter, and put my head on my knees, which are drawn up to my chest. He sits down on the floor beside me. This bloke really doesn't know how to take a hint. We sit in silence for a few moments.

"He really isn't worth it you know" he says quietly.

I nod. "I know" I whisper through the still flowing tears.

"But it still hurts" he says, almost questioningly.

"Yeah" I whisper.

I don't know how long we sit there for. Sometimes I can feel his eyes on me, but I never lift my head from my knees. I cry for a while, but finally fall silent, too exhausted to continue. Eventually, I look up and over at him. He's staring intently at the opposite wall, his arms crossed over his chest. I get up and brush the dust off my backside. He gets up as well. We walk in silence back to the common room. As soon as we enter through the portrait hole, he immediately starts toward the boy's dormitory staircase.

I'm standing in the middle of the common room, watching is retreating back. He's got his hand on the wall and one foot on the first step when I call out.

"Good night"

Without turning around he responds "Good night"

"And erm…" now he turns around and cocks his head to the side "thanks for, you know, waiting for me" I add awkwardly.

He nods his head "you're welcome". I really wish I could read the emotions on his face, or in his flat blue eyes. He turns around and climbs the stairs to his dormitory.

I turn around, climb my own stairs, and at long last fall, drained, into my bed.

**Author's Note**

Review...pretty please, with cherries and ice cream and chocolate icing on top. :D


	7. Chapter 7

The next few days weren't much better. Although I've stopped receiving sympathetic looks or dirty glares, I still notice people whispering as I pass by. Mercifully, Thursday night, Tetula Brown and Jack Cummings finally broke up. The couple is famous for very public relationship; everything from their snogging to their fights has happened with much of the school as an audience for their entire six month relationship. The break up was all everyone could talk about Friday; apparently it consisted of a huge fight in which Tetula had tried to Avada Kedavra Jack, but he dodged it. He was about to send a curse back when his mate, Arthur humped in and saved the day by restraining him and in doing so, probably saved many lives. The sad part about all this is that this isn't even the most far-fetched embellished version of the story I've heard.

After a very long day, and a very long week for that matter, in which every minute I spent awake was a minute wasted, in my opinion, I trudged onto the Quidditch pitch for Gryffindor's first practice of the season on Friday evening. I stare up at the sky before I enter the changing room. It's grey and there are dark clouds gathering. Seems like a storm is about to hit, and although I absolutely love the rain and thunderstorms especially. I think back to the afternoons and evenings I spent walking through the rain for hours at a time when I couldn't take being at home with mum and dad any longer. When there wasn't any rain, I'd usually lock myself in my room and read, or even go explore the muggle town near our neighborhood. Anything to be as far away from my parents as possible. However, thunderstorms, as much as I loved them aren't exactly ideal flying conditions. And a storm on our first practice feels like a bad omen.

The team got dressed, and then Aaron bored us almost to death for an hour, talking strategy for the upcoming season. He had a chart and everything. Timmy and Simon were asleep by the time he'd finished, and I was having trouble keeping my eyes open as well.

"Ok team" Aaron clapped, "let's get out there."

There's a light drizzle as we headed out. As I mount my broom, I feel the familiar tingle of excitement run through my body. I stopped thinking and just let myself feel the wind around me and the tiny raindrops hitting my face. I force Jacob and everything else from my mind.

We start with laps, then drills. However, twenty minutes into the practice the rain starts to come down harder. By forty minutes in, we'd started practicing strategic movies but could barely see four feet in front of our brooms. The rain was coming that was falling made me think of giant buckets filled with water being tipped on us from the heavens. It was even darker now and the lightning and thunder had started. But our captain did not call to stop. I gritted my teeth, forcing myself not to yell out at Aaron. Thankfully, Sheryl took the words right out of my mouth.

"Oi! Everard! This is useless! And we're getting soaked!"

"What if a game day turns out like this? Wha're we gonna do then? Get pummeled because we were too pathetic to practice in a bit of rain?" He shouted back.

Pierre Smith joined in "this is not just a bit of rain!" He yells down from his post way above us, supposedly searching for a snitch he'd never be able to find anyway. Sheryl just rolla her eyes and continues flying, quaffle in hand, to the goal posts. She throws the quaffle and the only reason it got in was because Patel couldn't see Sheryl coming, much less the quaffle she threw.

We keep at it for a while longer, swerving to avoid colliding with each other every few minutes. Finally, two hours into practice, Aaron decides it's getting pointless, especially with the sky so dark and the rain showing no sign of easing up any time soon. We trudge back into the school. Our first practice had not gone well at all. On top of the weather, everybody seemed out of sync with each other. 'We don't move as a team' as Aaron had put it. As we walk up to the common room, I pray we don't run into Jack Argon, the caretaker, who would probably have our heads for bringing in so much water and mud this late into the evening.

I lose myself in my thoughts as we continue to make our way. Those thoughts, for the first time in a while, do not stray to Jacob, but to Aaron. Ever since that night during patrols, I feel awkward every time I'm around him. Am I supposed to be nice to him now? I really don't want to. And I don't think he deserves it; it was one kind act, it doesn't make up for three years of hating him. Does it? No, it doesn't I decide. He was just being polite, or civil. And in the days that followed the incident, he hasn't acted out of the ordinary toward me so I'm not going to let it change anything between us; he is still an arrogant, egotistical, self absorbed jerk.

Everyone goes straight to the fireplace to warm up when we enter the common room. I threw off my red an gold robe, padding, and cape, and stand by the fire with my dripping sweater sticking to me uncomfortably. I look over at Aaron, who was seated on a chair close by. He'd seemed pretty ticked when we were coming up here. It doesn't seem like he he's thinking about Quidditch anymore though. I realize with a mix of revulsion and horror that he's staring at me, or more specifically, at the sweater clinging to my frame.

"What're you staring at?" I snap at him.

He never falters. Arching a sarcastic eyebrow, while the shadow of a smirk played on his lips, he counters "Don't flatter yourself," and winks at a group of fifth year girls sitting in a corner of the room behind me, whom immediately begin giggling and whispering.

My blush deepens "Whatever" I mutter and refusing to look at his face where the smirk is dancing freely now, I fast walk up to my room and straight into the shower. I close my eyes as the stinging hot water washes over me and I attempt to return my cheeks to their regular hue. I stretch lightly and then lather my hair with my lavender scented shampoo. Only when I start feeling faint from the burning water do I step out, change into my pajamas and climb straight into bed, too tired to wonder where Penelope and Stacey are or even to dry my hair.

**Author's Note**

Sorry for the slightly shorter chapter, but at least the updates are super quick! Leave a review? :)


	8. Chapter 8

The next few weeks pass by in a blur. With all the assignments that are being piled on us, I rarely had a moment to think or relax. Patrols with Aaron had gone back to normal: awkward and silent. I avoided Hestia and Jacob as best I could. The only real enjoyment I've had in the past little while have been the rare evening when I don't have patrols or a mountain of homework; I usually spend this time reading novels (mostly muggle ones, since I find they're so incredibly imaginative) and sometimes I'll spend the evening chatting aimlessly about everything and nothing with Stacey and Penelope. Quidditch practices are also enjoyable, but only when Aaron doesn't spend an hour beforehand lecturing us about strategy and team work.

Before I knew it, it was the week before Halloween, the week of the first Quidditch match of the season. Gryffindor verses Ravenclaw.

On the morning of the match, I wake up an hour before my alarm, and unable to get back to sleep I resign myself to waking up at such an indecent hour and go take a shower and get changed. By then the sun has come up and I head downstairs for some breakfast. As I walk into the Great Hall, a few Slytherins sneer at me and a Hufflepuff girl I know vaguely from Astronomy gives me a thumbs-up and a smile. It takes a good deal of effort to smile back at her, an I hurry over to the Gryffindor table before anyone else can catch my eye. Thankfully there was no one else at the table yet. I put my head in my hands, take a deep breath, and try to relax. One would think that after three years of playing on the team, I would have gotten used to this by now. But no. My pre-game butterflies were all present and accounted for, and I could not stop my leg from jiggling up and down nervously beneath the table. On top of the regular pressure and nerves, Jacob would be playing today on Ravenclaw's team, and I was completely dreading being so close to him, even in the midst of a game. I chew my all-bran cereal slowly, noticing that it tastes like cardboard but not really caring enough to switch to something better. Slowly, groggy looking and yawning students begin to trickle down and soon the Great Hall is alive and loud; there's a nervous buzz in the air that's always present before a game.

I see Aaron get up from his spot at the far end of the table. He begins locating and talking to all the members of the team sitting in their various places. When he'd finished talking to Timmy and Simon, he hesitates; I'm the last one. I watch him shake his head firmly, obviously deciding that the game was more important that our unspoken agreement of silence. He strides over to me and stopps a half a meter away. Stacey and Penelope immediately stop chatting to listen in.

"You look awful" he says.

"Thanks" I mutter, not in the mood to think of a better comeback. I lift my hands to rub the purplish bags under my eyes.

He sighs. "What've you eaten?"

"Cereal and pumpkin juice, _mum_" I respond. I watch as he runs a hand through his dark brown hair nervously.

"You should've eaten eggs. Protein, y'know?"

"I don't think my lack of protein is going to be the problem." I respond, a slight hint of sarcasm in my voice, although he ignores it.

"Right. Well, that's ok. Just relax, we're going to do well, we've practiced hard." It sounds like he's trying to convince himself as much as he's trying to convince me. I don't respond, and still muttering, he turns away and walks back to his seat by Patel and Neil.

"Well that wasn't awkward at all" giggles Stacey as soon as Aaron is out of earshot.

"All right team, here we go!" Aaron calls our attention in the changing room. "Perfect flying conditions out there, not too sunny. Smith, catch the snitch as quickly as you can. Let's do this quickly, cleanly, and with minimal damage. And don't let _anything_ distract you out there." He looks pointedly at me when he says this, and I know he's also thinking about Jacob who will be playing Beater for Ravenclaw. "Ok, let's go!" He finished.

"And here comes the Gryffindor team! Lead by captain Aaron Everard, who plays chaser" yells Ernie Flood into the charmed microphone.

"Captains, shake hands" instructs Professor Blanche, the flying teacher. As usual, the captains look more like they're trying to break one another's fingers.

"And they're off!" shouts Ernie. The quaffle goes straight to Herald, the Ravenclaw chaser. He passes to Reginald, and OH intercepted by Cosgrow, the Gryffindor chaser. She passes to Boscawen, who narrowly dodges a bludger sent her way by sent her way by Davis" I seethed and tried to control my anger. _Just a game. He's a beater. That's his job. _

"Boscawen passes to Everard, who passes back to Cosgrow, who takes the shot and…10 POINTS TO GRYFFINDOR!" Wild cheering erupts from one side of the stands.

"Uh oh! It seems Bradeur, the Ravenclaw seeker has caught sight of the Snitch. He's racing across the field after it, and Smith is not far behind." The stadium goes quiet and even all the other players freeze in midair. All eyes are on the two seekers. I watch with dread, my heart hammering as Bradeur goes for the Snitch, realizing that Pierre isn't going to make it. Carl Herald takes advantage of the frozen situation to score another point. Patel, who also had his eyes fixed on the seekers, lunged much too late and swore loudly as Ernie announced "20 Ravenclaw, 10 Gryffindor. The seekers are still going at it. Bradeur has a good lead."

Suddenly, the spell is broken. Timmy sends a bludger towards Bradeur, which hits him hard in the shoulder. It looks very painful, but at least it knocked him off course. However, Bradeur's sudden stop caused Pierre to veer off to the left in order to avoid a collision, and the Snitch is once again lost.

The game goes on for a while longer. I score a goal and Aaron scores two. Patel saves two out of the three shots, leaving us in the lead with 40 to 30. I dodge another bludger, this time sent by Grangley, the other Ravenclaw beater and Aaron avoids a particularly vicious one sent by Jacob, but Sheryl is hit in the arm by a bludger sent by Grangley and hovering not too far off, I hear the sickening crunch of a breaking bone and her moan of pain. She stays in the game, but Aaron and I avoid passing to her. Finally just as things seem to be getting desperate, Pierre goes into a deep dive with Bradeur right on his heels. Again, the entire stadium freezes. The two seekers race down almost at a 90 degree angle. I watch and notice that there's little chance that Bradeur will catch it, he seems to be struggling just to keep up. Sure enough, the dive becomes too deep for him and he pulls out, narrowly missing hitting one of his team members. Now it's all a matter of Pierre being able to catch it. As he dives lower and lower, the ground gets nearer, and the entire stadium is holding its breath. He pulls out at the absolute last moment, mere inches from crashing headfirst into the ground…in his hand is the Golden Snitch.

The noise from the stands is deafening, and for the first time in a while, my heart feels as light as a cloud. I race down to the pitch and jump on top of the great pile of bodies that is the Gryffindor team, other than Sheryl of course, who was immediately escorted to the hospital wing by Professor Blanche once the match had ended. I get up and am just thrown back down to the ground when Stacey runs full speed at me and tackles me to the ground, squealing all the while. Penelope is right behind her and joins our hug on the grassy earth. In a blur of noise, chanting, cheering and triumph, the Gryffindors all go back up to our common room for the first victory party of the season. The most satisfying part is, as I'm walking up to the castle with the red and gold chanting crowd, I glimpse Jacob and another Ravenclaw walking to the changing rooms, obviously seething and muttering darkly.

In the common room, I sit with Penelope and Stacey on the old burgundy love-seat amid the chaos of the party; my grin stretches from ear to ear, and I do nothing to try and control it. I look around to see how the rest of the team is celebrating our victory; Sheryl, with her newly mended arm in a cast, is talking animatedly with her friends on the other side of the room, Pierre is nowhere to be found so I suspect he's off 'celebrating' with his girlfriend Alice Gwenler somewhere secluded, Timmy and Simon are setting off a mini fireworks display to the amusement of many on-lookers, and Aaron and Adnin are re-telling the match, play by play, to a group of giggling girls who are obviously not listening and are much more interested in the two blokes themselves rather than the match.

The party lasts all day, and well into the night. Around midnight, Stacey and Penelope say goodnight and head upstairs. I stay in the common room where there are still a handful of people left, discussing the match with Sheryl. At 1 am, she goes up to her dormitory as well. Maybe it's the spiked pumpkin juice, or the excitement of the match, but as soon as Sheryl leaves, I suddenly feel extremely sleepy. My eyes start to droop and I curl up right there on the couch. I was just dozing off when I hear a voice calling my name.

"Boscawen! Oi, Boscawen!"

"Wha-?" I sit up in a hurry.

"Go up to bed Boscawen, it's late." Adnin says as winks suggestively at me. Aaron elbows him, but says nothing. Rolling my eyes, I get up and head off to bed.

**Author's Note**

Slightly longer chaper than usual...is that better or not? Tell me what you think by leaving a review! Constructive critisism is always appreciated! :D


	9. Chapter 9

The next morning, I decide to spend all day in the library due to the fact that excessive Quidditch practices have me falling behind in most of my classes. I'm up by 9 am and considering it's a Sunday, that's a new record for me. I eat a quick breakfast and head off to the library before most people have gotten out of bed. The good thing about being up so early is that the library is almost completely deserted and silent.

I smile at Agnes Crosswire, the librarian, on my way in. I've spent enough time in here over the years that she and I are on pretty good terms, even though she has a tendency to dislike any student who's not a studious Ravenclaw. I choose a sunny table by the window and set down to work.

Three hours later, all I've finished is a Defense Against the Dark Arts essay and half the Charms essay. I sigh and decide to go on a walk to the fiction section to stretch my cramping legs. I look around at the towering bookshelves surrounding me; this is without doubt my favorite part of the library. Running my hand over the spines of the timeless collection, I try to imagine that I'm anywhere but here, somewhere in one of these stories. I have to drag myself away from them; when I return to my table I notice Aaron is now sitting at a table close by. He looks up as I approach my table and I can immediately tell that he seems very tired, especially with the large bags under his eyes. _Probably stayed up partying all night_, I think. I sit down and begin on the transfiguration essay. I'm only just starting when I hear someone huff and growl, obviously annoyed. I look up to see that it is none other than Aaron. How typical. He continues to make similar noises for a good ten minutes before I decide to say something.

"Oi, Everard!" I whisper loudly, making sure Crossiwire can't hear me, "shut up, some of us are actually trying to get some work done!" He gives me a look, then gets up and starts to pack his books into his knapsack. At first I'm surprised but extremely pleased that he's listened to me and has decided to leave, but then he starts walking and I realize, to my dismay, that he's not leaving but coming over to my table. He sets down his bag on the chair opposite me.

With both hands on the table, he leans in toward me and whispers "You're not the only one in this library Boscawen. Nobody else has complained about the noise" He looks even more exhausted up close.

"That's because there's hardly anyone else here, and no one close enough to hear you" I say flatly.

"Well then maybe you should move," he snaps.

"I was here first! You move!" I reply.

He doesn't budge and after staring at me with an annoyed look on his face, he sits down in the seat previously occupied by his knapsack.

"What the bloody hell do you think you're doing?" I exclaim, albeit quietly.

"Ok," he says, "I'll leave, if you help me with this bloody transfiguration." I'm just about to tell him to bugger off when he sighs and speaks again, "the quicker you help me, the quicker I'll leave, Boscawen."

Well that certainly did the trick. "What do you need help with?" I ask coldly.

"I don't get it," he says, his frustration evident in his voice, "what's-his-face's Law of Elemental Transfiguration"

I arch an eyebrow. "Gamp's Law?"

"Yeah, him" he nods " and don't look at me like that, I've got more important things on my mind than some old bloke and his stupid law".

I didn't bother dignifying that last comment with an answer. "What don't you understand? It's a law of physics stating what powers magic has to create or destroy matter. There's not much to get."

"Yeah, but the five principal exceptions, they don't make any sense. I've seen food conjured all the time, like at dinner when the food appears on the tables. And the Philosopher's Stone can create gold, and can the Gemino Curse," he replied, his voice clearly frustrated.

I shake my head, "no, food can't be conjured. Dinner is prepared by the house elves and laid out in the kitchen, then it's transported to the tables in the Great Hall. The Philosopher's Stone doesn't conjure gold, it changes other substances into gold. And the Gemino curse merely multiplies any object cast upon it, and multiplied gold or money has no value. The duplicates are worthless." I explain.

"Hmmm. Alright," he ponders a bit. "Ok, that's food, and gold. What else is there?"

"You can't bring back someone from the dead, you can't repair the effects of dark magic, and the last one's –"

"Love" he interrupted. I looked up, and probably for the millionth time I wish I could read the emotion in his eyes. Whatever it is, it's intense.

"Ya" I finished lamely. We stared at each other for a few more seconds, and then he got up abruptly and slammed his textbook shut, startling me in the process.

"Well, thanks for the help" he said in an overly cheery voice, as he shouldered his knapsack and left.

"Right. Ok, whatever." I mutter to myself, as I get restarted on my essay. I forget all about Everard for the rest of the day.


	10. Chapter 10

Halloween this year is no more interesting than usual. There's no troll in the dungeon, no dementors trying to suck out the souls of innocent students, nope, it's completely peaceful, and completely boring. Things are getting a little dull around here.

In a somewhat feeble attempt to make something out of nothing, Stacey suggests we have a hens' night. And so we do. After the Halloween feast, we go up to out dormitory and spend the night talking and stuffing ourselves with sweets and butterbeer that we'd nicked from the kitchens. Not until the wee hours of the morning did my stomach begin to ache to a point which was no longer tolerable. So I finally go to sleep, Stacey and Penelope following suite.

"Guess what?" Stacey squeaks at me the next evening in the common room. I reluctantly set down my novel and cast a wary glance in Stacey's direction.

"I'm pretty sure I don't want to know what," I reply.

"Too bad" she says in and exhaustingly cheery voice. "We are going to this year's annual Memorial Ball!"

I snort. "Yeah right," I pick up my book and am turning to my bookmarked page when Stacey grabs it from me.

"No really, we're going this year," this time in a much more serious tone. I resign myself to the fact that I would have to actually have this conversation with her, and that I probably won't be getting much further in my book tonight.

"Why in the name of Merlin would we do that?" I ask skeptically.

"I knew you'd disagree, that's why I've planned out an argument." I take a moment to digest this; Stacey doesn't even plan out her essays before she writes them. "I know that we went to the Ball back in fourth year and it' wasn't fun, and we decided we wouldn't go again, BUT-" I groaned. "-first of all, we were young and naïve and we didn't even have dates."

"What makes you think we'll have dates this year?" Stacey chooses to ignore this very valid rebuttal.

"Next year is our last year. Plus we'll have N.E.W.T's to worry about. Who knows how busy and stressed out we're going to be. This year may be our last chance to go!"

"I still don't see why we should go at all. It's stupid and we're not going to have fun. And think about all the preparing we're going to have to do!" I'm beginning to worry, Stacey seems actually serious about going to the Ball.

Thankfully, Penelope joins us at that moment. She'll be on my side for sure. "What's going on?" She inquires.

"Stacey is under the delusional impression that the three of us will be attending this year's Memorial Ball." I respond.

"Oh?" she arches an eyebrow.

Stacey launches right into her argument again before Penelope could get in another word. I watch Penelope's face intently as Stacey jabbers on; she looks hesitant, at best. That's definitely not a good sign.

"I don't know, Stacey" Penelope says when Stacey's finished speaking. Penelope looks over at me for help. "It wasn't fun in fourth year and Irene and I won't have dates this year either."

"Aha! But I haven't gotten to the best part yet! There will be no need for dates this year. Even I won't be bringing anyone." I watch as Penelope's eyebrows shoot up and become hidden under the fringe of her hair. "That's because, this year's ball is a masquerade!" Stacey finishes dramatically, looking very pleased and excited. There's a moment of silence, and then I groan loudly.

"You have got to be joking. That is the stupidest, most overrated, clichéd idea ever. Who's the wanker that came up with that idea?" I exclaim.

"Oh come on Irene! Stop being so cynical. It'll be fun and romantic," Stacey pleads. I roll my eyes, pick up my novel, and ignore any "ball" talk for the rest of the evening. However, over the top of my book cover, I see Penelope's smile begin to grow and I watch as she sends and excited glance over in Stacey's direction.

Two weeks later, I find myself in Hogesmeade with Penelope and Stacey. We are dress shopping. I'm not quite sure how I came to be in such an unpleasant situation; when I cast my mind back, it is a vague blur of pleading and threatening, both of which were done mostly by Stacey. The ball s in three weeks, and Stacey is pressuring me to buy a new dress, even though I have a pretty good one in my trunk already. The ball itself is a combination of a Christmas celebration and a memorial for the Battle at Hogwarts and the fall of Voldemort, which took place almost six years ago. The tradition was started by Professor McGonagall in 2000.

Stacey leads us into a shop called "Linsietta's Dress Factory". I've never even noticed it before even though it's sitting along the main street. After shuffling through the racks for twenty minutes, Stacey has a handful of dresses for each of us to try on. I grab a few that I think are nice and we head off to the changing rooms. We start first with Penelope. She goes to change into her first dress while Stacey and I wait outside. One thing I adore about Penelope is that she doesn't make a fuss over anything; so after three tries she settles on a floor length shimmering green dress. It's the colour of an evergreen tree, with a closed front, Kimono style, and an open back. She looks amazing in it; it contrasts her fiery hair and compliments her green eyes.

Next we move on to me. I'm relieved that I brought a few dresses that I'd picked out because although the dresses Stacey got are nice, they are a tad too…revealing, for my taste. The first is a sequined blood red dress that's tight all the way through to where it ends just above my knees. I come out rather reluctantly to show the girls.

Stacey smiles brightly, "You look hot" she exclaims. I put a hand on my slightly protruding stomach.

"I don't think so" I say, and go back into the changing room. Another five dresses are discarded in a similar fashion, all of them being too tight, too short, or too low-cut.

"Oh come on Irene!" Stacey exclaims as I go back into the changing room after showing them a particularly horrific hot pink dress that looked more like a piece of lingerie.

However, my choices proved to be worse than Stacey's. Although they aren't as revealing, to be honest they were just plain ugly. So as I reach for the last dress, another one of Stacey's, I pray that it would look at least half decent, because frankly I'm exhausted and sick of this. I slip the silky black material over my head, and let out a sight of relief when I turn to the mirror. It looks pretty darn good. It reaches all the way to the floor and is simple, yet elegant. The top is folded and ruffled and shows just the right amount of cleavage; the back is completely open and crisscrossed with delicate lace all the way down to just above my lower back. There's a soft leather belt wrapped around it, just above my waist that very effectively hides my stomach.

When I step out, Penelope immediately exclaims "This is the one!" I smile at her. Stacey looks me up and down "It's nice," she agrees, reluctantly it seems, "I still think the pink one or the red one is nicer though." I snort as I go back into the room to change into my regular clothes.

Stacey's dress is an even bigger ordeal than mine. Even though she looks great in just about ever dress she tries on, she claims that none of them are "just right". Finally she settles on a sparkling midnight blue dress that reaches just past her knees and is considerably low cut, but does not quite fall into the "slutty" category.

Without even looking at the price tag, I pay for my dress and I can't suppress a sigh of relief as we finally exit the shop and make our way over to the Three Broomsticks.

**AN:**

Leave a review, pretty pretty please. They help tremendously. :)


	11. Chapter 11

One week later, I enter the Great Hall for breakfast to find that the Christmas trees and decorations were set up overnight. This instantly changes my mood and I'm feeling considerably more depressed as I sit down and start to eat. All around me there's a light buzz of excitement, brought on by the near-coming holidays. Penelope and Stacey don't say anything; they already know what's wrong with me, and there isn't really anything they can say to make me feel better.

Christmas at my house used to be a wondrous affair, from what I can remember of it. We had a 7-foot tall Christmas tree in both of the living rooms, the guest room, and both kitchens. We had relatives and friends over each year, and the small army of house elves that take up residence in the mansion I call a home would, each year, prepare a meal to rival the Christmas feast at Hogwarts. Emily, my older sister, and I always got the presents we wanted. We used to be happy, our whole family, even Mum and Dad. Then things began to change. When I was six or seven, Mum and Dad started having problems. Their fights escalated, until they were shouting and throwing things at each other almost every night. I remember that Emily would come into my room and play with me or read to me to calm me down and mask the angry voices reverberating throughout the house. Sometimes even she couldn't keep it together, and she ended up holding me as we both cried silently as Mum and Dad continued to fight, not even giving a moment's thought as to how this could be affecting their children. The fights normally ended when either Mum or Dad left the house, slamming the double doors behind them.

For the first two years, both my parents tried their best to put their differences aside, at least on Christmas. They still decorated, and brought presents, but the feeling was gone. They barely spoke to each other, and their smiles, no matter how much effort they put into them, were always obviously fake. After that, they just stopped trying. Mum walked around the house like a ghost, barely there, and not speaking to anyone. Dad started coming home from work later and later and spent all his time at home behind the closed door of his study. Neither of them spoke to the other, and they barely spoke to Emily and me. They ate their meals separately, and slept in separate bedrooms. Even now, I don't understand why they don't get a divorce. It would make things much easier on them, and me and Emily.

As soon as Emily turned 17, about two years ago, she moved out, got a flat on the far side of London. She told me she was sorry to be leaving me alone with them, but that she couldn't take it anymore. I was angry at first, but I don't blame her; I would have done exactly the same thing. In fact, I intend to move out as well, as soon as I turn 17 this August. After Emily left, I stopped caring and feeling sorry for myself. I ignored Mum and Dad and made a great effort to be at home as little as possible. I spend most of each summer at either Stacey's or Penelope's house. However, when it comes to the Christmas holidays, I'm always forced to go home. Every year, I receive an only one owl from home; it always arrives approximately a week before the holidays start. It's form Mum, instructing me to come home on the Hogwarts Express for the holidays. I don't understand why she's so insistent on me coming home. It's not like we still celebrate Christmas. We even stopped putting up the tree years ago. No one picks me up from the station and when I manage to get home, I receive a "hello" from Mum. That is all I hear from either of my parents for the torturous two weeks that I spend in my house for Christmas. I used to cry, when I was smaller, every time Christmas rolled around. But for the past few years I've spent the two weeks reading books or watching shows on this muggle invention called a "tv-box" or something like that. Dad brought it home when I and Emily were still toddlers. I still remember the excitement of that evening, sitting in front of the box, mesmerized by the moving pictures and sounds that were all created sans magic.

So this is the reason for my current misery, and it goes without saying that Christmas is my least favorite time of the year.

On top of the mounting dismay I feel about going home for the holidays, there's also the dread for the coming Memorial Ball. Stacey speaks incessantly of it; she's already earned herself two detentions for talking in class. I count down the days in my head. One week until the ball and two weeks till the holidays arrive.

Tuesday. Three days until the Ball. I'm picking at my cornflakes this morning when a familiar brown Tawny owl drops down in front of me. It holds out its leg while I unfasten the letter, stares at me for a few seconds longer with its cold yellow eyes, and then flies away before I can offer it a treat.

It comes every year, this letter. I've learned to expect it. Still, I can't stop the cold feeling in my chest as I open the envelope. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Stacey and Penelope staring at me, both looking worried.

It's the same as always:

Irene,

Hope you are well. You're expected home for the Christmas holidays.

- Lydia Boscawen

_Hi Mum, yes I'm doing great, thanks for asking. _I think sarcastically. Suddenly my mood has gone from sad to furious. I crumple the stupid letter, stuff it in my book bag and leave the Hall without looking at anyone.

Stacey and Penelope join me in Charms; they don't speak to me, but I can see them casting worried glances at each other when they think I'm not looking.

I sigh. "I know what you guys are doing". Stacey and Penelope immediately snap their heads back to the front of the class, where Professor Flitwick was demonstrating the wand motion for the _Epoximise_ spell. I force a smile and continue, whispering "I know I've been in a foul mood lately. I'm sorry if I've been a prick. "

Penelope shakes her head slightly and whispers "No."

Stacey continues "We get that this time of year isn't really the best for you,"

"And there was also that thing with Jacob" Penelope adds.

"Yeah. You've had a rough couple of months. But you put up with us all the time, and I know that I can definitely be a pain in the arse sometimes. So chill out, we're here for you," finished Stacey.

Flitwick finally hears us and pipes up "Miss Edwards, do you have something you'd like to share with the class? Or would you just like another detention?"

"No Professor" Stacey squeaks, turning slightly pink.

"Good. Then I suggest you pay attention," and with that he returned to his lecture.

When I was sure Flitwick wasn't watching us anymore, I spoke again, "Thanks you guys. I don't know what I would do without you," I whisper. For the first time in days I'm smiling and actually feeling slightly cheery. I silently thank God, or Merlin, or whoever controlled the universe, for my amazing friends.

**AN:**

Reviews are greatly appreciated! It helps me keep going, so tell me what you think! Even if you think the story sucks, tell me that, in a review! :D


	12. Chapter 12

It's the night of the ball, 7 pm. An hour till show time. Stacey, Penelope and I are upstairs in our dormitory, along with Tallulah Reed and Rose Watier. We were all getting ready.

Tallulah emerges from the shower, after a full 45 minutes, shouting, "Somebody has touched my honey melon Organza body wash! Almost a quarter of it is missing! How many times have I told you guys not to touch my stuff? Do you have any idea how expensive that body wash is?" She screams.

Rose rolls her eyes dramatically, and makes a face behind Tallulah's back. Penelope and I stifle giggles for fear of enraging Tallulah even more.

Stacey sighs, "no one's touched your precious soap, Reed. Shut up, would you?"

"It's not just soap, Edwards!" Tallulah spits. I rush into the bathroom to avoid the crossfire and begin washing my hair as fast as I can. I'm last to shower and running short on time.

I'm out and drying my hair in ten minutes (a new record for me). I cast two charms on it, one to dry it, and one to straighten it. Next I carefully wind the ends around my want to curl them.

"Penelope, a little help here" I ask. Penelope, who's nearly ready, takes my wand and curls the hair at the back of my head, which I can't reach. Finally, I charm it so that my hair will stays in place all night. Stacey once tried to get me use this muggle stuff called "hair spray". I'd gotten it in my eyes and spent an hour trying to wash it out to relieve the stinging. It was a nightmare, and from then on, I've stuck to magic when it comes to styling my hair.

The hardest part over, I relax a bit as I start applying my make up; dark, black rimmed eyes, very soft silver eye shadow, and a neutral peach for my lips. With fifteen minutes to go, I pull on my dress. Penelope ties the ribbons on my back as I pull on my shoes. Finally done.

As usual, Stacey is still getting ready, panicking now that we've only got five minutes left. "Where are my shoes?" She mutters to herself.

When Stacey has found her shoes, the three of us don our masks and head downstairs to the Great Hall. It's been transformed into a ballroom with small, four seat tables around the edges of the dance floor. I must admit, it looks quite good. On each wall hangs different coloured drapery, reaching all the way from the impossibly high ceiling to the floor.

Penelope, Stacey and I take a table at the far end of the room. Near the opposite wall, a stage has been set up, and a band of five, dressed in white and red robes are playing soft classical music. The three of us begin to chat as we await everyone else's arrival and the start of dinner. I look past Penelope's shoulder at the entrance, and at the students dressed in their finest, eyeing one another, critiquing their friends' choices of outfits and dates. I roll my eyes. I have to be honest, I did sort of enjoy dressing up, it's been a while since I've taken such care with my appearance; but still, such events are so shallow, and the stupidity of the evening is just starting to dawn on me as I look at the rest of the student body filtering in. I'm still staring at the entrance when Hestia Jones enters the hall, made recognizable despite the mask that covers her face by her perfectly done auburn hair, the haughty way she walks and the ridiculous plunging neckline of her dress. I see her puff out her cleavage slightly as a bloke, who could only be Jacob, puts his arm around her waist.

I look away quickly and try to focus on the story Penelope is telling about a unicorn she'd seen in the Amazon rainforest, where her and her parents had vacationed over the summer. But I can't get the image out of my head: Hestia's smug smile, Jacob's hand around her waist.

The hall becomes quiet and the music stops. McGonagall stands up and asks that everyone be seated. A few whispers and much chair scraping later, the hall is quiet again.

McGonagall begins to speak, her voice magically amplified, "I want to welcome you all the sixth annual Memorial Ball. We celebrate now in order to remember the great feat that took place here years ago- the fall of Lord Voldemort." Even though the name is now used freely, without fear, it still casts an ominous air among the students in the hall. "We also must be sure to remember all those who gave their lives at the Battle of Hogwarts in order for us to live free and happy lives, without fear or oppression. Now, let the festivities begin." With a wave of her arm, McGonagall conjures menus that appear in front of every student and staff member present. As usual, each students calls out the dish of their choice and it appears magically in front of them.

I look over the menu. Dutch Oven Barbecued Steak. Just the name has my mouth watering. I look over at Stacey, with her impossibly thin, toned biceps. She's already ordered, and is eating a small piece of salmon with a garden salad. I sigh, and order the same thing.

One by one, the students begin finishing their dinners and drifting on to the dance floor. The band is now playing a fast-paced Spanish number. Some couples are actually salsa-ing along to the beat, while the less gifted dancers are just swaying unenthusiastically, making bedroom eyes at each other. Stacey's dancing with Arnold; Penelope and I are still sitting at the table, trying to pretend we don't mind that we haven't been asked to dance. Just then, Tyler Walks, a seventh year Ravenclaw comes up to our table and asks Penelope for a dance. She doesn't reply, only nods her head. I see her eyes turn bring pink as she takes Tyler's waiting hand and they join the swaying couples on the floor. She gives me an apologetic look over Tyler's shoulder, which I reply to with a thumbs up and a brilliantly faked smile.

Great. Now I'm alone. I try not to let it bother me, however my sour mood turns worse when I catch sight of Hestia and Jacob dancing. She has her hands locked behind his neck like a vice, and he's whispering something in her ear. Staring at the two of them, trying to make Hestia's head catch fire with my mind, caused me to miss the tall bloke walking over to me.

"Hello" he smiles.

Dumbfounded, I respond automatically, "hi". He stretches out his hand and I place mine in his. Then… he kisses it. Yes, kissed it. The way people did about two centuries ago, the way the guys in the novels I read do. I feel my heart swell.

"Would you like to dance?" he asks politely.

"Sure" I breathe.

I follow him out to the floor and we begin swaying, rotating in circles. By now the band has returned to soft classical pieces. I look up and notice his beautiful eyes an perfectly shaped lips.

"I'm Jonathon, by the way" he whispers.

I smile. "Nice to meet you. I'm Irene."

I know it's cliché, but I could physically feel my heart trying to escape from my chest. Jonathon and I continued to dance as the next song came on.

Just as I was beginning to think that this ball was a wonderful idea, and that I adore Stacey for dragging me here, I feel something shift.

It's Jonathon's hand on my back. He subtly slides it from its position at the middle of my back, lower. To the small of my back, continuing, lower. Right before he reaches my rear end, I push him in the chest, away from me.

"Pig!" I spit, and slam my high-heeled foot down on his. I see him scowl deeply as I turn away and walk out of the Great Hall. I'm trying to hold in all the overwhelming emotions; the rage, the hurt. I was about to go upstairs to my dormitory when I notice that the front doors are standing wide open. After further inspection I realize that part of the front lawn has been transformed into and elaborate garden. Maybe a bit of fresh air will do me good…

**AN:**

I know, not a very exciting chapter. But the night is not over yet, and there's still much more to come before it ends. Stay tuned! And leave a review...pretty please?


	13. Chapter 13

I walk down a small path, lined on both sides by trimmed hedges and white and orange lilies. Here and there I see a tiny light in the bushes or trees. I wonder if they're fireflies or pixies. As I walk deeper I begin to hear the unmistakable sound of trickling water; I follow it to a small circular clearing. It's surrounded by trees and all kinds of flowers. In the middle sits a small fountain with a thin stream of water trilling through it. Off to the side, at the edge of the circle, is what looks like a park bench. It seems I'm not the only one in need of a bit of fresh air, for there's a bloke sitting at the end of the small bench. He has his legs stretched out in front of him, his arms crossed over his chest, and even through his mask I could tell he is staring intently at the fountain that stands a few meters away.

I walk over to the bench. He seems not to have noticed by presence, for he made no movement whatsoever. The noise of my clicking heels on the stone ground sounds obnoxiously loud in the serene silence of the clearing, even to my own ears. I reach the bench, and by that time he is looking up at me through the plain black mask that covers three quarters of his face.

"May I sit down?" I ask. I'm going to sit down whether or not he agrees, but I'm just trying to be polite.

He stares at me for a moment and then waves his hand lazily towards the empty seat on the bench. I sit down on the opposite end, but the bench is so tiny that there's barely half a meter between us. He immediately returns to staring at the fountain, and I look up at the sky. Nothing is visible, save for the outline of the moon behind on of the numerous think white clouds that cover the sky. I try not to think about what a pathetic misery this night has turned out to be and instead concentrate on finding any starts visible through the clouds. I was just beginning to feel better when the bloke next to me speaks. I jump slightly; I'd forgotten that he's there at all.

"I'm sorry?" I asked, slightly annoyed that he'd startled me out of my thoughts.

He's looking at me now, though the rest of his body holds the same position I first saw him in. "I asked," his voice is smooth and barely above a whisper "how come you aren't in there like everyone else, dancing and enjoying yourself?"

I think for a moment, "Well, I could ask you the same thing," I respond.

He shifts, so that his upper body is now turned toward me. I notice that his suit is very simple and clearly not made of anything fine or expensive. His dark brown hair falls to the top of his ears.

He smiles, a very nice smile. "I'm not really the type, y'know, for dressing up and dancing and whatnot," he responds.

"So why come at all? I imagine you would have had a much more enjoyable evening up in your dormitory doing something other than sitting here on your own, staring at a fountain."

"My mates convinced me to come," he responds.

I definitely know what that's like. "I see" is all I say.

A moment of silence, and then, "So, you didn't answer. Why aren't you inside dancing?" He asks once again.

I relent. "Because it's stupid. And because boys are pigs," I say bitterly. "No offence," I add as an afterthought.

Another smile. "None taken" he says.

We lapse into silence again. After what couldn't have been more than five minutes, he speaks again. "Well, to be honest, staring at this fountain is starting to become quite dull. Why don't we take a walk?" He suggests.

"Alright," I stand up and lead the way out of the clearing.

The December air is quite chilly, and by this point I am shivering in my thin gown. I think longingly of the shawl that I left on the back of my seat in the Great Hall.

"Are you cold?" The bloke asks. He's following behind me as I lead the way, and he's so close I could hear his voice right in my left ear.

"Yes," I respond, "but don't give me your jacket."

"Why not?" he sounds surprised and also immensely amused. I can't help smiling to myself.

"Because that's so cliché," I say.

He pauses for a moment. "Would you like me to warm you up a different way then?" He suggests. I can hear the humor in his voice.

I ignore the sexual reference, not bothering to grace it with an answer.

"Sorry, couldn't resist" He apologizes, although there's still a hint of amusement in he tone. I roll my eyes, at least he's not trying to touch my arse.

We reach the end of the garden; the lake in the distance looks dark and ominous. Suddenly, an idea comes to me; I bend down and take off my shoes. "I'll race you to the lake." I challenge. He looks startled for a moment, but I don't wait to hear his response. I bolt, heading towards the lake, my shoes swinging wildly in my right hand. It only takes him a second to catch up, and two seconds to be a good deal ahead of me. By the time I reach the edge of the lake, he's already conjured two blankets, side by side, and is sitting on one. I drop down on the one beside it, panting hard and taking in great lungfuls of bitingly cold air. My hair, despite the charm I put on it, is a mess and my makeup is surely smudged, but all I can think about is the adrenaline still pumping through me and the exhilarating feel of the wind in my face and hair. I lie down and stare up at the sky, trying to regain my breath and calm my panting body. I could feel the bloke's eyes on me; I try to block him out, to focus on just me and the vast sky.

When I'm breathing normally again, I stand up and walk to the edge of the lake. I stare out at it; I can just make out the opposite shore in the distance. The lake isn't sparkling or shimmering; instead it looks deadly. I pick up the skirt of my dress from one side and gather it around my thighs.

"I wouldn't do that! It's going to be bloody cold!" The bloke calls out toward me.

I go in anyways, just far enough so that the water is up to my ankles. "Fuck! That is freezing!" I can only bare it for a few seconds before I have to get out. I sit down on the blanket again, and conjure another one to put around my shoulders. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see that my anonymous companion is now lying down, staring at the night sky like I had been moments ago. I see his chest rise and fall gently, and his blue eyes are glazed over as if he's looking at the sky bust seeing something entirely different.

I turn my head fully now, openly staring at this stranger I'm sitting beside. He's taken off his jacket, despite the weather. He has his arms behind his head and his nose has turned red from the cold. I'm trying to think of the perfect, one word to describe him, but I'm interrupted in my thoughts.

"What?" He asks. He must have noticed me staring.

Turning slightly pink, I answer his question with another question, "What are you thinking about?"

He quirks one eyebrow, and sits up. He turns toward me, "How do you know I was thinking about anything?" He asks softly.

"Your eyes and your face" I'm gesturing ridiculously with my hands, trying to convey what's in my head, "You just seemed like you were thinking about something." I finish lamely, my face thoroughly pink at this point. He looks amused.

"Stop smirking." I snap.

He doesn't stop. "I'm not smirking, I'm smiling."

I try not to, but I can't stop myself from smiling as well.

"There you see, it's not so hard." He says, his grin wider than ever; I try not to stare at his lips.

"Shut up," I mutter, but I have to admit I'm amused as well, and he is quite funny…

A loud noise shatters the silence. 12 dongs are let out by the clock tower, indicating that it's midnight.

"It's midnight" I say, stunned.

"So?"

I hesitate. "Traditionally, at masquerades, midnight is when everyone takes off their masks and discovers with whom they'd spent their evening."

Silence.

"Oh," he finally responds. "So are you going to pull a Cinderella on me?"

"A what?"

"Oh, you're pureblood" he smiles, "never mind".

"No, what is it?" I demand.

"Just some stupid kid's story."

More silence. I try desperately to think of something to say. Do I want to reveal myself to this bloke? Do I want to know who he is?

"Let's not" He says, startling me from my frantic thoughts.

"Not what?"

"Take off our masks." His voice is soft.

"Oh. Right." An immense feeling of relief and disappointment wash over me, both at once. "Ok." I suddenly have an overwhelming urge to cry. I lie down once more, stare determinately at the sky, and again, try to control my emotions. Mr. Anonymous lies down next to me, a lot closer this time; he's on the very edge of his blanket. He however, is not looking at the sky, but has his head turned toward me. He lifts his hand and brushes his fingers over the part of my arm that isn't covered by my second blanket. I shiver slightly, and I can feel goose bumps emerging all over my body. I turn so that my body is facing his, our faces mere inches apart. I look up at his eyes. They aren't like the blue of Stacey's eyes, which are sparkling and friendly. His eyes are the blue of a sunny summer day's sky, the kind of blue that is unyielding.

We stay in this position for a few moments longer. Neither of us moves, nor speaks. He doesn't try to kiss me as I expected him to, as any other boy in his place would have done.

When I can no longer handle the cold, and my teeth are beginning to chatter, I tear myself from his gaze and onto my feet. He rises after me.

"This was nice" I say softly; what surprises me is that I actually mean it.

He nods. "Yeah. It was," his smile is sad. I know how he's feeling because I feel it too. The feeling of dread, of not wanting this to end. Tomorrow morning we'll wake up and it's back to reality. Boring, pathetic reality.

For a fleeting moment, I consider suggesting that we take off our masks. But that idea scares me even more than not knowing. I don't know exactly what I'm scared of, I just know that if I find out who this bloke is, I'll regret it. I must accept that this was a one time thing, one night embedded in my memory. And it doesn't matter than nothing significant _happened_. Sometimes, nothing has to _happen_, it's just a feeling, and you know that something is special.

We walk back to the castle together, a heavy silence between us. There's significantly less students in the Great Hall now; I imagine most of them have gone to bed, hopefully their own beds, by now. It's almost 1 am. My companion and I separate upon entering the hall. I head over to the table I had been sharing with my friends earlier that evening. I meet Penelope there, who judging by her pink cheeks and breathless demeanor, has just gotten off the dance floor.

"Where's Stacey?" I ask.

Penelope rolls her eyes and smiles, "In a broom closet, snogging Arnold I expect. Where have you been all night? And why are you still wearing your mask?"

"I'll tell you about it later. I'm going up to bed. Coming?"

Penelope looks over to the other side of the hall, where Tyler is sitting, trying to look as if he's not staring straight at us. I suspect he's waiting for Penelope, or rather, waiting for me to leave. "Erm…" Penelope hesitates, turning even pinker.

"Never mind" I smile, "enjoy the rest of your night".

Out of the corner of my eye, I see Penelope and Tyler reunite on the dance floor as I head out of the hall and up to my dormitory. "Puking Pasties" I tell the Fat Lady, and she swings open for me. There's no one in the common room. Upstairs in the 6th years girls' dormitory, only Rose is present; she's fast asleep. I vaguely wonder where Tallulah could be.

I lie in bed, trying to fall asleep, but it's frustratingly difficult. Images of the night flit through my mind. The last thought I remember as I lie in bed only half awake is of a crowded Hogwarts corridor. It's between classes and the corridor is full of students and every single one of them is wearing a mask.

Aaron's POV

Irene.

I wasn't sure it was her at first, but all doubt had evaporated when she made that comment about men being pigs. I can't help smiling at the memory. The next image that comes to my mind is a picture of her, just after we'd raced down to the lake. Her face was pink from the cold, her hair wild and falling around the nape of her neck and her brown eyes shining. I've never seen a girl who could look that untidy and yet that beautiful. I remember her chest heaving as she panted for breath in the tight dress she was wearing; the sight of her pale legs shining in the moonlight as she hitched up her dress to go into the lake.

I let out a groan, muffled into my pillow. I hate that she has this effect on me. More so, I hate that if she ever found out that I was the one she'd spent tonight with, actually _enjoyed_ tonight with, she'd probably hate me even more. If that's possible.

**AN:**

There it is! The ending of the ball! And a much longer chapter than usual. There's much more to come as things take a turn for the worse in Irene's life. Let me know what you think in a review.


	14. Chapter 14

I wake the next morning to the glare of the sunlight coming in through the open curtains. With a groan, I lift my head slightly and check the clock sitting on my bed side table.

Noon. Great, I'd missed breakfast and lunch wasn't for another half hour. My stomach grumbles suddenly, as if in protest to this news. The dormitory is empty and I lay my head back down and try to clear it.

It's Sunday morning. Well, technically Sunday afternoon now. Last night was the Ball. Jonathon what's-his-face is a pig. I met a mystery-man outside in the garden and spent and enjoyed my entire night with him. I don't know who he is. Did I leave anything out? No, I don't think so. Great, now I'm up to date.

I sigh. Perhaps I should have found out who last night's bloke was. Maybe that was the biggest mistake I've ever made in my life. Then again, perhaps I should be congratulating myself on not knowing who he is because, as I most definitely know by now all the toe-rags and jerks start out as nice guys.

I finally force myself out of the bed and go to take a quick shower. By the time I get downstairs, lunch has started. I find Stacey and Penelope about halfway along the table, and sit across from them.

"Morning girls!" I say cheerfully. I look purposefully at both of them. "Well?" I ask expectantly.

"What?" Stacey replies, although I'm pretty sure she and Penelope know exactly what I'm referring to, based on the fact that they have both just turned slightly pink.

"Ok Stacey, let's start with you" I say playfully, thoroughly enjoying embarrassing both of them. "Did you even make it back to our dormitory last night?" I watch as Stacey turns from slightly pink to tomato red.

"As a matter of fact," she snaps, "I did make it back to the dormitory, and I slept in my own bed. That's all you need to know."

I chuckle, and turn my attention to Penelope. I'll pry more details out of Stacey later. "Alright, what about you Penelope? Tyler Walks seemed about ready to murder me when I suggested you and I go back up to the dormitory."

Stacey jumps in to save Penelope. "Hey, wait a minute Irene. YOU"RE the one who disappeared all night, and came back at 1am with our mask still on. What did you do all night, and who did you do it with?"

Now it was Stacey's turn to smirk. "Touché Stacey. Ok, why don't we finish lunch and head back up to the dormitory. We'll swap stories, and everyone has to spill, everything." I responded. A lazy afternoon in the dormitory with my friends sounds like a great way to spend the next few hours.

As we're finishing up, Penelope pulls something out of her robes. "Irene, I almost forgot. A letter came for you this morning. It was your mum's owl." I could hear the confusion in her voice, and feel a frown growing on my face. Why was mum sending me another letter? This has never happened before.

Just as Penelope is reaching over the table to hand me the letter, a chocolate brown hand reaches out of nowhere and snatches it. I turn around quickly, and see that that hand is attached to Adnin Patel.

"Boscawen you've got another letter! Didn't your yearly one arrive last week?" Adnin smirks as he begins to open my letter. Behind him Michael is laughing, and Everard is looking very uncomfortable. I know Patel is only joking around, but I'm not in the mood for this, and if that letter actually is from my mum, I definitely don't want him reading it. I grab for the letter, but he turns away and I catch nothing but a fistful of air. He turns back to me; by this time he's managed to open the envelope and take out the parchment inside. He stretches his arms up so I can't reach it, even I if I were to jump, which I most certainly am not going to do. He tilts his head up and begins to read it at arm's length away, suspended way above my reach.

"You're such a prat, give it back!" I exclaim. Behind me Penelope and Stacey roll their eyes at Patel, but know it's futile to try and stop him from reading my letter. As soon as he begins to read it though, I know something is wrong. The smirk on his face vanishes in a heartbeat. It's replaced by a mix of horror, pity, and guilt. He lowers his arms and holds out the letter to me, not saying anything. I stare at him, not daring to take the letter from his open hand. "What? What is it?" I can hear the panic in my own voice, but I still don't reach out for the letter. The look on Patel's face tells me I don't want to read whatever it says. Everard and Neil are now reading the letter over Patel's shoulder. I hear Everard mutter a curse word and then cover his face with both hands; Neil's breath audibly catches in his throat. Both are wearing expressions similar to Patel's. Stacey

comes up from behind me and snatches the letter from Adnin's still outstretched hand. In

a matter of seconds, she's looking up at me with tears in her eyes. Penelope, who's also just arrived beside us, reads the letter over her shoulder and gives me a similar look.

"Oh my God, Irene. I'm so sorry." Stacey whispers; with a shaking hand I reach out and take the letter. I immediately recognize my mother's cold cursive handwriting.

_Irene,_

_ Your sister was in an accident four days ago. She died in 's last night. You will remain at school for the the holidays. I will send for you when it's time for the funeral. _

_ I'm so sorry,_

_ -Lydia Boscawen_

I stare at the paper, rereading the words, willing them to disappear in front of my eyes. Please, disappear. Don't be true. Go away. I feel a sudden irrational explosion of hatred for these words. These curly letters, aligned on the page. I hate them, want to murder them. Waves of pain crash over me and I feel something catch in my throat. I don't know if it's a sob, a scream, or the lunch I just ate. I look up to see five horrified faces staring at me. I see Stacey move toward me, see her take hold of my right arm. I see it happen, but I can't feel it; I don't feel her hand on my shoulder, or her arm against mine. It's there though; I know it's there because my eyes tell me it is. My field of view changes as Stacey steers me away from the table. We begin moving toward the entrance. I see a couple of faces staring at us from the tables nearby.

My mind is blank. The only thing I think about is the images I'm seeing as I continue to move forward. I can see Stacey by my side, propelling me onward. Now I see the double doors, and then the main staircase. When we reach the stairs, my legs automatically know what to do. I've heard that when you're injured badly, you become unconscious to escape the pain. It's the brain's method of protecting your body from the excruciating pain. I think the reverse is happening to me know. My body has taken over so that my mind alone can lose consciousness. Dimly, in the back of my head I know that if I start to think about what I read in the letter, about what's happened, if my mind comes out of its coma-like state, I would not be able to continue walking. Images of the hallway continue to blur past. Finally, I'm standing in the hospital wing.

Madam Pomfrey rushes out of her office. Stacey is speaking to her. Madam Pomfrey is responding. I don't know what they're saying, and I don't really care. I try to move away from Stacey. I want to be in my dormitory, alone. However Madam Pomfrey grabs hold of me and steers me into a bed. She runs into her office and returns with a potion vial with something green in it. She hands it to me, and when I don't take it, she puts it up to my lips, tilts my head back and forces me to drink. I vaguely recognize it as something for shock. I'd taken it in fourth year after an unfortunate encounter with a boggart in Care of Magical Creatures. I know the potion is supposed to taste awful, but I taste nothing as the yogurt-like substance slides down my throat.

I take another potion, this time purple. I recognize this one as a dreamless sleep potion only after it begins to take effect. Soon, everything goes black.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Yes I realize it's been about a year since my last update. I don't really have a good excuse, just that I got busy with my last year of highschool and university applications and many other life-related things. But I'm back with some new inspiration. If anyone's even slightly interested, tell me what you think. I feel like I should finish the story and put it to rest.


End file.
